


Sweater Weather

by Rileykins



Series: Kinktober 2019 [3]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: D/s implications, F/M, Kinktober 2019, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-15 02:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rileykins/pseuds/Rileykins
Summary: Dean and Ophelia revisit an old role-play scene they used to explore, complete with sex slutty school girl uniform.





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Spanking with some begging.

Ophelia walked up the path that would take her to the front door of the sprawling bungalow, humming slightly as she kept her eyes down from the door of the imposing, approaching house. Dark chestnut brown hair swept back in a loose braid, her eyes lined with black liner. She carried a small bag, filled with notebooks and a pencil case. She would have brought the lens-less glasses too, but she didn’t really want to risk breaking her favourite frames. Dressed in what could only be considered a classic school girl outfit, she felt ready and confident to take on whatever tutoring she had scheduled.

As she reached the door she lifted her hand to the door, before she looked at the doorbell. Reaching over, Fee pressed it and listened as it rang shrilly behind the door, stifling a giggle. He hated it when she rang the doorbell.

Soon, the faint sound of footsteps followed.

She stepped back as the door opened inwards, the stench of skunk and pine seeming to follow the body of the male who leaned in the doorway. Ophelia lifted her head up, peering up at the man who stood there with a joint hanging from between his lips.

“Yeah?” Dean grunted, rubbing a hand across his chest.

“Hey, uh.” Ophelia stuttered, colour flooding her face. “I’m back for my second tutoring lesson?” She turned her torso, her bag coming into view. “I know I’m a bit late, the traffic was bad, I didn’t-”

Dean cut her off with a slight roll of his eyes before stepped back and jerked his head in to bring her inside. Ophelia stepped into her home, arms crossed over her chest as she moved to toe her shoes off. Dean snapped the door closed behind them and walked past her, arm brushing her’s as he walked towards the dining room. “Next time you wanna be twenty minutes late, just tell me you’re not comin’,” Dean muttered as he sat down at the dining table. Ophelia exhaled, moved to drop her bag on the table and sat in the chair next to him, opening her bag to start pulling things out of it.

He raised an eyebrow at her, pulling the joint from his mouth. “I thought I said not to put your shit on my table.”

“I… didn’t want to put it on the floor. My bag got dirty last time.”

“You’re here to learn some fuckin’ algebra bullshit, aren’t you?” Dean half sneered at her, bringing the joint back to his mouth.

She nodded, colour coming back into her cheeks again, taking a deep breath before she answered. “Yeah, but-”

“No. You’re here so I can teach you, not so you can worry about your damn bag.”

Again, Fee nodded. “Alright.”

Dean scoffed. “‘Alright’?” He echoed. “Just ‘alright’? What did I say when we first got together, missy?”

“When we’re tutoring, I have to…” She trailed off, biting the corner of her lip.

“Have to what, princess? Spit it out.”

She swallowed, looking away from him to look down at her hands in her lap. “Call you ‘sir’.” It was barely a whisper as if she couldn’t believe she was confessing this to him.

Dean leaned back in his chair, exhaling blue-grey smoke from his mouth. “So far, we’ve been at this table for under five minutes. Even before this, when you stepped into my house I didn’t hear a single ‘sir’ out of ya.”

“I’m sorry,” Fee breathed.

“Sorry ain’t gunna cut it today, Princess.” Dean muttered, and with that he stood up, dropping the practically finished joint on the table, licking his thumb to put the end out. “Come with me.”

Ophelia looked up but didn’t move. “Sir?” She squeaked.

“Come. With. Me.” Dean growled and reached down to grab her wrist. He yanked her to her feet, uncaring that she stumbled from the chair. With her securely in his grasp, he led her from the dining room across the hall into the living room. “Thought the last time we had this discussion you would have learned somethin’ from it.” He said, before he sat down heavily on the couch.

Ophelia gasped when he pulled her down over his knees. One of his legs draped carefully and high over her ankles. He twisted one of her arms behind her back with his right hand, allowing his left to go free. “What did I tell you about bein’ disrespectful again?” Dean asked her, his free hand moving from the small of her back to smooth the skirt over her ass, before he flipped it up. He bit back a groan at the sight of her tiny white g-string.

Fee wiggled. “You’d make me respect you.”

He brought his hand down sharply over her ass, making her gasp. “Are you forgettin’ somethin’ at the end there, princess?”

“Sir!”

“Mmm. I should give you ten swats for that.” Dean hummed, squeezing her wrist experimentally in his hand. “I think… for every time you’ve forgotten ‘sir’, or have treated these sessions like a joke, you’ll get ten.” He pinched, and she gasped. “How does that sound?”

“...I don’t know how many that’ll-”

A swat.

“Sir!”

“Yes?” Dean answered, smoothing the pinking skin with the rough palm of his hand. Fee was squirming already.

“Please don’t spank me, sir.”

“Why not? You ain’t listenin’ to me, and so far you’ve listened more here over my knee than you have at the table.” 

“Please… I don’t want to be spanked, sir.”

Dean chuckled, and the sound only made Ophelia’s panties wetter. “You sound so sad, but your pussy’s tellin’ me otherwise.” He twisted his wrist, two fingers pressing against her clothed mound, and she gasped, squirming once more. “You don’t want me to spank you?”

“No, sir, please.”

“That’s too bad. Today we’re learnin’ how to count to twenty, Ophelia.” His voice had dropped down a tone or two, and he stroked over her pussy once more, making her wiggle her hips. “Count out loud each time my hand smacks this perfect ass of yours,” He said, pinching her once again. “Once we get to twenty, we’ll consider this session over, right?”

“Right.”

He smacked her ass hard. “Right what, princess.”

“Right, sir.”

“Good girl,” Dean said, and shifted under her just enough to give his cock some room in his jeans. Her torso laid over it, and he knew she could feel it. “Ready?” She shook her head, but he didn’t care. He raised his hand and brought it down on her ass hard, and she gasped. From the few swats before, her skin was already sensitive to the impact. “Count, Ophelia.”

“One.”

Another smack.

“T-two…”

Another, followed by the appropriate count. She was squirming, hands clenched into loose fists behind her back. Dean grinned, landing another smack on her ass.

“Four! Fuck!”

“Language. I should slap your ass again for that one…”

“No! Please,”

Smack. Smack.

“Count them, princess.”

“S-six, I think… Jesus, Dean please…”

He ignored her, smacking his hand down against her ass a bit harder than before. She jerked in his grasp and he smiled, doing it again. He landed a third when he realized she wasn’t counting and moved to hook his thumb under her g-string, snapping it against the crack of her ass.

“Dean!”

“You weren’t countin’, so you get three more at the end. You should be at nine now, Ophelia.” He paused, smacking her ass once again. “And you’re at ten.”

“Ten, sir.”

Dean loved watching her ass change shades of pink to red. He didn’t really care if she didn’t count, he was counting in his own head. At thirteen he noticed she hadn’t stopped moving, shifting her weight from the ball of her feet to her toes. He also noticed that her panties were sopping. He paused mid delivery on smack number fifteen, instead he moved this time to prod her pussy with his fingers. She gasped, and it was at that moment that Dean realized she had been crying. His dick jumped in his jeans and he gave her a few minutes to relax, to come down from her tippy toes and relax her clenched hands.

Then he walloped her ass, solidly. A single hard wallop.

“Fuck!” Ophelia hissed, toes digging at the floor as she jerked hard against his knees. “D-dean please, stop…”

“Have you counted to twenty yet? What number were we on, princess?” He asked her, his hand smoothing over the pretty red colour her ass had turned. “Was it sixteen or seventeen?” No answer. He pinched the area that looked like it was beginning to welt up, making the brunette over his knee squeal. “Answer me, or we start over.”

“Fifteen! It was fifteen.”

“Good girl.”

So she was paying attention. Good. Dean delivered the final five smacks with wide splayed fingers, nearly back to back. On the nineteenth smack, Ophelia sobbed, kicking her feet out from the impact of it. “Stop, please! I can’t-”

“You have one left.” He interrupted. “I’ll let the other three slide for next time.” He soothed, rubbing her ass once more. Oh, she would have such trouble sitting for the next few days. Maybe he’d make her bruise this time. He lifted his hand, and he felt her brace. Of course, she would, but they both knew that this would only make it hurt more. “Princess you gotta relax.”

“Please, Dean I can’t, not another one, I won’t-”

He brought his hand down flat against her ass and Fee shrieked. Her skin was warm from the spanking, and Dean was breathing heavily. They remained there, in the living room until he gently released her wrists and legs, moving to take her under the armpits and haul her onto his lap properly, tucking her head under his chin as she dug her fingers into his shirt, sniffling. Even now, fresh after a spanking she squirmed. Dean felt a little bad about it, only a little, just enough.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, kissing the top of her head. “Did I go too far?”

“No…” Fee whispered in return, shaking her head just slightly. “No, I’m okay, you were f-fine.”

“Fee,”

“Dean, it was perfect.” She lifted her head from under his and smiled, all watery-eyed and pink cheeks to match the other set. “Really… you were the worst tutor I could have signed up for, and yet you’re the best boyfriend to play this out with.”

He grinned and kissed her swollen lips. “Don’t tell the others that, they might want in on the action next time.”

“Next time?” Ophelia asked, wiggling in his lap. “What do you mean?”

“You still have three saved in the bank, princess. You don’t think I won’t dole those out whenever I please?” Dean purred, and laughed when Fee moved to smack him, catching her wrist in a big hand. “Love you, honey.” He said softly, ducking his head to kiss her again.

“Love you too, babe.” Fee sighed, smiling before squealing as Dean swooped her up, moving to his feet. “Dean! Put me down-”

“I’m running a bath for you, quit squirming.” He told her, carrying her from the living room and down the hall. “God, it’s almost like you forgot what we do after scenes like this.”

Fee smiled, genuinely touched that Dean was so devoted to taking good care of her. She kissed his cheek, and swung her legs slightly in his arms. “Thank you, sir.”

“Anytime, princess.”


End file.
